On a Silent Rainy Day
by TheInsomniacWriter
Summary: On a silent rainy day, Black feels it. On a silent rainy day, White sees it. Sometimes, words just aren't needed and expressions say more than enough.


White wiped the sweat off his forehead. Nodding to the taller man in front of him after he put down one of the larger pots. They were rather heavy. He took a small break to catch his breath. And even though it was raining out, he was still rather warm. His pullover stuck to his skin like glue and he couldn't wait to take a shower later, once his work was done. He'd offered to help an older man out who had just gotten an order in of twenty flower-pots the size of a toddler. He hadn't a clue why someone would need so many, but it wasn't like him to pry - his job was to move them to the door entrance so they could be picked up for delivery.

He looked up at the sky, the clouds were ever so grey. The colour that held a specific meaning to him - no not just him, but also to Black. "Let's grey!" was a thing Black would often say and it made White shake his head, thinking back about it. He hadn't seen him in a couple of days and decided he would need the space - quite frankly so did White himself. Some days the headaches were horrific and he'd rather not have to deal with Black's attitude when he'd be in one of those moods.

White looked at the remaining pots and decided to move the last four up and then call it a day. The rain wasn't going to stop pouring any time soon and he didn't want to catch a cold - that would only make the headaches worse. He carefully lifted the last of the ceramics order onto the doorstep and straightened his back.

Only a moment later he heard footsteps behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see a figure, which slowly came into his vision. He shifted his wet fringe out of the way and noticed who the figure was. White hair, cream-coloured coat. It could only be him. He turned one last time to say goodbye to the elder before leaving the shop behind and walking to the white-haired figure. His face showed distress. White eyed him from head to toe. He was soaking wet and his boxing gloves were still dangling from his shoulder. It'd been a while since he'd seen him pull a face like that - something must've happened. Normally when he pulled that face, White had all the reason to worry.

Black just stood still, his lips trembling, eyes watering. He brought his hand to his face and covered his eyes. White wondered what happened that made him like this and placed his hands on the front of his jacket. He tried to take a look at his face and opened his mouth, but did not speak. His hands moved up to his face and he bent his knees to look his friend in the eyes. Black's mouth quivered, but he also didn't speak. Only muffled sobs were heard between them. He stepped back and placed a hand on his forehead and gritted his teeth, as to say he did something stupid. White's expression shifted to something a little more stern, fearing the worst - that he'd given in once again.

He couldn't keep telling him it would be alright, he tried to take care for him - and take care of him, whenever he made rash decisions. But he wouldn't sugarcoat it forever. White wasn't angry, no, he was afraid. He didn't want to see him in such a state after not seeing him at all in the past few days. So he sighed and grabbed his left arm. Obviously he'd secretly been hoping he hadn't drawn more lines on his skin, but when he's in this state, you'd never know. Black didn't move an inch when his friend dragged up his sleeve to show his pale arm, and White held his breath doing so.

He immediately breathed out when he saw his friend hadn't been drawing on himself this time. Thick lines revealed themselves, all were white and none were red. A wave of relief washed over him and he slowly wrapped his arms around Black, pulling him close. He needed the comfort, they both did. The rain was still pouring, but in that moment White felt a hint of pride for his friend, so nothing mattered. Black's sobs quieted down. All the care in the world disappeared for a minute and White sighed deeply once more before looking up to the sky.

On that rainy day, Black felt it.  
White saw it.

No words were needed.


End file.
